


Sick

by orphan_account



Series: Caffiene & Nicotine [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: College AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 09:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4055479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tucker had always been a major drama queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick

Tucker had always been a major drama queen. He exaggerated just about everything. Honestly, Wash wasn't sure just how much of what he said was true. The last time he'd stubbed his toe, Tucker had proclaimed that he was pretty sure he was dying from the pain.

So when he texted Wash saying he had never felt so sick in his life, the blond brushed it off and didn't bother going to check up on him until after lunch with Caboose. Tucker had been kind of off the last few days, but Wash figured it was probably a cold, and that he'd get over it.

"And then there's Ana," Caboose said, continuing with telling Wash all about his seventeen sisters. It was insane, how big his family was, especially compared to Wash's - he'd been an only child.

"And what's she like?" Wash asked. He dug in his pocket for his dorm key as they came to a stop in front of the door. He could hear Tucker's coughs coming from inside, and they actually sounded _painful_. Maybe he had bronchitis? Wash would call Doc later, or maybe Grey. One of them would probably know what was wrong. They were medical students, and good ones.

"She is very funny," Caboose said. "And she really likes strawberries a lot. I do not like strawberries. Especially strawberry ice cream. It is terrible."

Wash was about to laugh, but as he opened the door, he stopped. "Holy shit, you were serious. You _are_ sick," he said, gaping at Tucker. He was curled up in his bed, hidden in a cocoon of blankets. Dark circles were stamped beneath his eyes, and his skin looked kind of pale.

"No shit," Tucker rasped. "Fuck, I think I'm dying." He broke off into horrible coughing, and Wash winced.

"Hey, Caboose, I'll see you later, alright? I've got to take care of this idiot," he said.

"Okay! Goodbye, Washington," Caboose replied, beaming. He headed off, probably to find Church or something. Wash didn't really care where. He was too preoccupied with his dumb boyfriend, who had stopped coughing and was instead groaning with misery.

"If I don't make it, tell Church I always hated him the most. And take care of Junior for me," Tucker said, his voice strained. "And you can keep all the magazines I have under the bed. Cherish them forever." He started to say something else, but he started into another coughing fit before he could get it out.

"You're not dying, dumbass," Wash replied with a roll of his eyes. He grabbed the hand towel that they kept beside the small sink in the corner and ran it under some cool water. "You probably have the flu or something. I don't know. I'll text Doc or something and have him come see if he knows what's up. And you're an ass, I don't want any of those magazines. Please burn them, once you're better, for the love of God." He sat beside Tucker on his bed and pressed the damp cloth to his forehead.

"Please not Doc," Tucker huffed. "Anyone but Doc."

"Fine. Grey, then." He didn't bother leaning away from Tucker at all. Wash figured that there was no way to prevent catching whatever his boyfriend had, whether he liked it or not. They shared the same cramped living space, after all.

Tucker groaned, clutching his stomach and curling up. "I hate everything."

"Don't you dare puke on me," Wash said, nearly jumping off the bed. "I will end you without any hesitation."

"Really feeling the love," Tucker muttered. "Or maybe it's my stomach exploding. I can't tell which."

"You're so dumb," Wash sighed. He settled in beside Tucker, making himself comfortable. He was going to be there for a while, it seemed, while he waited on Grey to get out of her current class. He kept one hand on the cloth, to keep it from falling off Tucker's forehead, and ran the other through his dreads. He wouldn't mind getting sick, really. It'd be worth it, just as long as Tucker stayed back to take care of him.

"I'm actually dying," the sick man declared. "It's official."

"You won't be missed," Wash joked.

"I fucking hate you."


End file.
